


The Letter

by atc74writesSPN



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 05:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atc74writesSPN/pseuds/atc74writesSPN
Summary: Y/N loses everyone close to her. She receives a very cryptic letter from her grandfather after his passing that sends her on a search for the next seven years. What she finds is not what she expected.





	The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This is my latest work from Tumblr and my very first post here on AO3. Thank you in advance for reading.

Y/N couldn’t believe she had driven eight hours from her home, her sanctuary, for this-this travesty. What these scam artists did was take advantage of people. People that were in mourning, grieving for the loss of a loved one, holding out hope that they’ll be able to say one last I love you, or I’m sorry.

Hundreds of people crowded the small theater and she couldn’t believe she was one of them. She hadn’t left her small town in years. She hadn’t even really left her property in nearly six months. It wasn’t that she was afraid of people or crowds, she just didn’t like them. She didn’t trust humans as a general rule. That is why it was just her and her animals. She liked the peace and quiet of her solitary existence. It was mostly how she was raised and how she liked it.

Y/N was born to a single mother who had died during childbirth. She was raised by her grandparents until her grandmother, Victoria, had died when she was only five years old. It had just been her and her grandpa, Cliff, save a couple of farm hands and Marta. Marta was a nice woman that came and cleaned and cooked for them. She also home schooled Y/N until she turned sixteen and graduated from high school. The following summer, the week before her seventeenth birthday, her grandpa had passed away.

_She was truly orphaned. Marta still came to look after her a couple days a week and the workers were there from sunup till sundown, but they weren’t family. Because she had been tutored by Marta, she had never had friends. She doubted if anyone other than three people even knew she existed._

_“Y/N, honey, we need to talk,” Marta called as she pulled dinner from the oven one night a couple weeks after he died. Roasted chicken with homemade mashed potatoes, green beans and squash covered the dining table in her grandfather’s, well her, house._

_“Thank you for dinner, Marta,” Y/N said politely as she took a seat._

_“Sugar, your granddaddy left this for you. He asked me to give it to you after his funeral.” The old woman slid a yellowed envelope across the table. “Now, let’s enjoy this meal.”_

_After dinner was eaten, the leftovers stored and the kitchen cleaned, Marta took her leave as usual. Y/N remained at the kitchen table with the letter and a cup of tea. She slid the envelope around the table several times, just watching it spin. Finally, she picked up the cup of tea, dumped it in the sink and locked herself away in her bedroom._

_Sleep would not come easy for Y/N that night, just like it hadn’t for the previous two weeks. Slumber and Y/N were fickle friends and would not see eye to eye for some time._

_Over coffee and toast the next morning, she eyed the letter sitting there on her table. It was mocking her. She shook her head and went about her day, letting the letter sit alone at the table._

_Come dinnertime, Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off the ancient envelope. She grabbed a letter opener from her grandpa’s desk in the study and meticulously opened the letter._

> _My sweet child Y/N,_
> 
> _The day you were born was both the best and worst day of my life. Your mother, my only child, died bringing you into this world. I have never felt so conflicted in all my years. You brought me such joy, just as your mother had._
> 
> _I am sorry, Y/N/N, for I don’t feel I raised you right. I should have sent you to a real school. You should have met friends your own age. You should have gone to sleepovers and dances and gotten in trouble for breaking curfew. Instead, I let you shut yourself in, staying cooped up in this house with me or Marta, only coming outside to tend to the animals like they were your only friends. Maybe they were, but still, baby, it ain’t right. I should have done better by you._
> 
> _I think I was afraid to you lose you like I lost your Mama. There was no worse heartbreak in the world than losing her, then my wife so close together. I wish you had known her better, Gramma I mean. Your mother would be so proud of the woman you have grown into. They both would have. I know I am._
> 
> _Now, sweet child, there are things that have been kept from you; things you must find. I have faith in you that you will find them all and make me proud. Know that I will be watching you from Heaven with your Mama and Gramma._
> 
> _I love you sweet child,_
> 
> _Grandpa_

_A stray tear drop fell from her eye, landing on the yellowed parchment. She was sad, she was angry. She was angry at herself for being sad and sad that she was angry. She curled into a ball on the bed and cried herself to sleep that night. Tossing and turning, she heard her grandfather’s voice guiding her with cryptic clues and nonsensical rhymes._

_For three weeks she dreamt of him and his letter. Each dream was different. In one, he handed her a crossword puzzle, just like they would do every Sunday when the newspaper came. Another dream featured a weathered map with a single ‘x’ on it, but the map was written in a language she didn’t recognize, nor was the topography anywhere she had ever seen before. She used all sorts of tools in these dreams; shovels, a pickaxe, a jackhammer. Was she supposed to dig? Was it some buried treasure?_

_Dreams of riddles and scavenger hunts plagued her restless nights. In the rare case she snuck in a nap during the day, Grandpa was there, telling her to get up and go get it. The dreams were all different, but they all ended in the same location: St. Louis, Missouri._

_She spent weeks rummaging through every cupboard, every cabinet, drawer, closet and loose floorboard in the house. She checked the chicken coop, the goats’ pens and the horses’ stables. She dug up the entire patio and half the yard. Her muscles were sore, her back aching and her mind was tired._

_“Marta!” Y/N called, bursting through the back door one afternoon. She had been out tending to her chickens when she reasoned the answer could very well be in her house at that very moment._

_“Yes, sugar?” Marta turned where she was removing a hot pie from the oven._

_“Did you read the letter?” Y/N questioned her._

_“Oh no, sweet pea! That letter was private! I would never read something that wasn’t addressed to me,” Marta pledged. “What is in that letter is between you and your granddaddy.”_

_“Marta, will you read the letter, please?” Y/N pleaded with the older woman. “You’re all I have left and I can’t decipher what he is telling me to do. I can’t sleep, I barely eat. I am slowly going insane! Please help me.” Y/N cried into her arms as she hung her head on the dinner table._

_Marta took a seat, pulling her chair closer to the girl she had loved and cared for most of her life. “Dear, please don’t cry. Of course I’ll help you. I will always help you. It is what I have always done and will do until my last breath.”_

_Together, they read the letter out loud. Y/N felt the tears begin anew and the old woman wiped them away. Marta turned to her._

_“Child, is this why you have been pillaging this house and digging up that yard? Are you looking for something?” Her eyes were like steel behind her glasses, boring into Y/N as she nodded quietly._

_“He said there are things I need to find. Where did he hide them?” Y/N said, exasperated._

_“All in due time, sugar. All in due time,” Marta repeated, patting her on the head as she set about tending to dinner._

As she sat in that crowded theater, the throngs of people, the din of their voices, she almost got up and left more than once. She was here for a reason, even if she didn’t believe in it herself, Marta had and it was the sweet old woman’s dying wish that Y/N come and ask the questions Marta hoped Y/N could find the answers to.

_“You have to promise me something, sugar,” Marta gripped her hand and pulled her near. “Promise me you’ll go, that you’ll keep looking.”_

_Marta slid another envelope out from underneath her afghan and passed it to Y/N. “What is this?”_

_“Open it and you’ll see,” Marta rasped, her breathing becoming labored._

_Y/N pulled the envelope from the woman’s delicate hand and opened it. Inside was a single ticket and another letter._

> _Sugar,_
> 
> _I know you will find every excuse to stay home, but please go. I have heard good things about this man and had an honorable experience with him myself. If you won’t do it for you or your granddaddy, please do it for me. Go, find what you are looking for. I know he can help you._
> 
> _With all my love,_
> 
> _Marta_

_Inside the envelope was a ticket: **An Intimate Evening with Jensen Ackles, Renowned Clairvoyant and Medium**._

_“Marta, I c-can’t,” Y/N breathed heavily in the hospital room._

_“You can and you will, sugar,” Marta took her last breath, her hand going limp in Y/N’s. Her tears fell once more against the woman’s hand as she held on the last person who loved her._

Wiping away the tear brought on by a memory, Y/N composed herself. She quietly sat in her seat, willing the last twenty-four years of her life not to give away her uneasiness of being in a crowd this size. Her seat was on the aisle of the second row, stage right. As the house lights dimmed, a hush fell over the audience.

An older man stepped out onto the stage, dressed in a nice blue suit, not expensive, but nice enough, with a white shirt and a blue striped tie. He raised a microphone and looked out to the sea of faces.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to An Intimate Evening with Jensen Ackles. With all the skeptics in the world, spouting how the afterlife doesn’t exist, how psychics are nothing more than scam artists and there is no such thing as mind reading, I caution you this.

“Anything is possible. With an open mind and an open heart we can achieve anything. We can believe in anything. We can accomplish so much and see more than we ever thought possible. I would like to thank you all in advance for coming and now without further delay, I present to you, my son, Jensen Ackles!” The older man stepped back, holding one arm wide as another man stepped out from behind the curtain.

Y/N had done her research on this man. She knew he had a small, but loyal following. She had read testimonies from the young to the old, all of them saying the same thing, ringing the same praises. Mr. Ackles seemed to be legit from what she had read, but tonight would bring the proof or blow holes in the theories she was holding in.

“Thank you. I am so happy to see so many faces here tonight,” Jensen addressed the audience. “As my father said, the world is filled with skeptics, the naysayers that don’t believe. I myself have encountered frauds that lure people in with promises of saying goodbye to a loved one, of leading them to their loved ones lost treasures. What I ask of you before we begin, is don’t believe what you hear, I only ask that you believe what you can see.”

He walked proud and tall across the stage as he spoke, looking out to the crowd. He was neatly dressed in a dark gray slacks, a white dress shirt and a cable knit sweater. His feet were clad in black boots. He stopped at the corner of the stage and gracefully lowered himself to the floor.

“Can you turn up the house lights please?” Jensen raised his eyes towards the back of the theater and soft lighting filled the space. “Thank you.”

“I feel more comfortable out here with you, if that’s alright. Up on that stage, I feel like a spectacle, an attraction,” he chuckled lightly into the microphone. “I guess that’s what some people think, right. Think back to the early days of the circus with their sideshow performers: The bearded lady, the fire breather, the sword swallower, the mind reader. These attractions drew people, didn’t they? But, do you really think they were real? I didn’t. People talked about them for days after.

“But, it was almost like a mockery of what those people were. Yes, it was just an act, but for those people, it was real. That is who they were. The bearded lady was just an unfortunate woman, perhaps with too much testosterone in her system. I didn’t know what a clairvoyant was until I realized I had a gift. Well, when my  _grandmother_ realized I had a gift. I just thought I was helping people. I guess I was about three or four years old.”

Jensen strolled casually across the floor in front of the stage, making eye contact with those he could see. He moved with a grace that Y/N hadn’t seen from many men, then again, her experience was limited to those in her small town. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he slowly approached the side she was seated on.

“I remember my dad losing his keys, and I just knew where they were. I rescued all kinds of animals, found all kinds of things, things that had been lost for a long time. I just could see things, ya know? I made friends easily, and enemies even easier. For me, it was easy to tell the good from the bad; it’s all in their aura. I stayed away from those people and tried to keep my friends safe, but it made me an easy target and I got beat up more times than I can count. But it didn’t keep me from protecting people.

“Again, I just thought I was helping people. It wasn’t until I was about six, when I was reading a comic book in my room. Bright lights were swirling around my vision, I just thought I had read too long, but when I saw Mr. Romans, our next door neighbor, lying in the middle of his kitchen, I knew something was wrong. I ran down the stairs, told my dad Mr. Romans was dead in his kitchen. We rushed next door and sure enough, he was there in the middle of kitchen floor, just like I saw him. My father called 911 and the paramedic pronounced him dead at the scene. We later found out it was a heart attack. That scared the hell out of me! I was just a kid and now I was seeing visions of dead people?! I was back in my room a couple weeks later, thinking about Mr. Romans lying dead in his kitchen, thinking I should have been able to save him, when I heard him calling to me. We had a conversation, of sorts. I saw papers, money and I passed this information on to my dad. Turns out Mrs. Romans had been looking for his will and life insurance papers and I was able to tell her where they were, with a little help from her husband.”

Jensen stopped at the edge of the front row, looking up and down the aisles, smiling at people, shaking a few hands when his eyes landed on Y/N, lingering on her face, looking her up and down. “I don’t want to stand up here and tell you about me or what I have done.” He looked directly in her eyes as he spoke, his jade orbs piercing in the soft lighting of the theater. “Tell me, what can I do for you?”

Y/N looked around the crowd. Surely he was not speaking directly to her. She was completely not ready to ask him to help her find what she was looking for. Hands rose all around her. Across the aisle, a small girl of about ten years old, waved a picture and it caught his attention. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and he turned to the child.

“Hi sweetheart, what can I do for you?” Jensen crouched down to the girl’s level. She handed him a picture.

“This is my dog, his name is Oscar and he is missing,” the little girl cried.

“What’s your name?” Jensen asked softly.

“Katie,” she sniffed.

“Katie, I have a dog named Oscar, too. Tell me about your dog. Where does he like to go? What is his favorite toy?” Jensen quizzed the little girl and she answered all his questions.

“Katie, I am going to need your help here, okay? Can you hold my hand?” Jensen smiled at her and held out his hand. She slipped hers into his palm, dwarfed by his large hand. “Is this your mom?” Katie nodded and Jensen looked over at her mother.

Jensen closed his eyes and held tight to Katie’s hand, Oscar’s picture in his other. Y/N could see his eyes fluttering under his lids. He opened them slowly, and his eyes started darting around the theater, like he was watching something move about quickly. He had laid his microphone on the floor when he took Katie’s hand, but Y/N could hear the whispers as they left his mouth.

“Hidden, brown, 25, trees, a long fence, gates, water,” Jensen looked back to Katie’s mother. “Did any of that make sense to you?”

The woman nodded, tears coming to her eyes. “There is a dog park out on Country Rd 25 called Hidden Pond. It’s a small wooded area with a fence around it with gates to come and go. It has a brown sign and a small pond. Do you think that is where he went?”

“Worth a shot, don’t you think?” Jensen looked back to Katie. “Go get Oscar, Katie.” The little girl hugged Jensen, then grabbed her mom’s hand, pulling her up the aisle. “Keep me posted please!” Jensen called after them, but Katie was already out the door.

Y/N sat in her seat, riveted by the exchange between Jensen and the girl. She figured it was all part of his act, but he was quite charismatic, dashing and connecting with the people that had come to see him. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She had to remind herself why she had come in the first place.

“Miss? You’ve lost something as well,” Jensen’s voice boomed like it was right next to her. She opened her eyes to see a pair of black boots next to her seat. She followed the long line up a pair of dark gray slacks, followed by a cable knit sweater and the greenest eyes she had ever seen.

“Not really lost, just haven’t found,” she whispered. Jensen crouched next to her, just like he had done with Katie.

“Still haven’t found what I’m looking for,” he sang lightly. “I heard a song like that once.”

Y/N laughed. “And he sings.”

“Miss, will you tell me your name please?” Jensen smiled.

“Y/N.”

“Miss Y/N is looking for something, but not something she lost. Does that about sum it up?” Jensen asked, standing to his full height, he must have been over six feet tall.

“Pretty much.”

She observed Jensen once more as he looked one way then another, but never really looking at any one thing. At one point he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, almost like he was in pain.

“Puzzle, maps, shovel, holes,” Jensen muttered only loud enough for her to hear him. “You really are looking for something. A farm, an old man, a letter.”

“My grandfather,” she whispered.

“Is it something your grandfather lost?” he prodded.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Jensen reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card, passing it to her as he shook her hand. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

She looked down at it, seeing his picture and a phone number. It had a small hand written ‘1’ on the back.

The evening continued on like that, Jensen spending a few minutes with several people. His act was spot on, seeming genuinely concerned for the people he came in contact with. With only a few minutes left before the end of the show, for lack of better term, Y/N thought, the door burst open and a dog came running down the aisle.

“Oscar! Come back here!” Katie was yelling and chasing after the animal.

Y/N’s heart leapt into her chest, overjoyed that the little girl had found her lost dog. It was just coincidence, she thought, brushing the feeling aside.

Jensen greeted Katie and Oscar at the end of the aisle. The dog jumped up, laying his large paws on Jensen’s chest and wagging his tail excitedly.

“Thank you so much Mr. Ackles for finding Oscar!” Katie threw her little arms around his waist, hugging him tight. Jensen stood there, hugging both the girl and her dog, the smile on his face a mile wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

After the excitement of Katie’s reunion with Oscar died down, Jensen’s father came back out on stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming tonight. I hope that you continue to believe in the work that Jensen does, the help he provides and, for those of you that arrived here tonight skeptics, my hope is that he was able to open your mind, allowing you to see things in a way you may not have before. Thank you and goodnight.”

Jensen was making his way back down the aisle to the stage through the lines of people exiting their seats. Y/N had decided to stay put while the theater cleared out. She saw no value in standing in a slow moving line. Her mind replayed the events of the last two hours, her hands subconsciously fidgeting with the card in her lap.

“Miss Y/N?” an older blonde haired woman stood before you. “My name is Donna Ackles, Jensen’s mother. I understand he handed you a card tonight. He would like to see you in private; he feels he can help you with your search.”

“Right now?” she was surprised.

“Yes, Y/N. Jensen prefers to keep the feeling, the images fresh. It’s only a tick after five, then we’ll have some supper,” Donna motioned for Y/N to follow her through a side door. She led her to a hallway, doors on either side. “Here we go.” Donna knocked on the first door and it opened quickly, Jensen filling the frame.

“Thanks, Ma,” Jensen leaned forward, pecking his mother on the cheek. “Hello, Y/N. Please come in.” He stepped back, allowing her space to enter the small room. Something told her she should feel reluctant to be alone in a room with any man, let alone a stranger, but there was a feeling of peace that washed over her as she stepped inside and took a seat on the small loveseat against the wall.

“Miss Y/N?” Jensen spoke as he closed the door. “Can I get you some water?”

“Just Y/N, please and no thank you,” she responded, her hands now folded in her lap.

“I can sense this was a big step for you, a long journey to get here tonight,” Jensen pulled up a chair and sat a respectful distance from her, but close enough that they could speak softly. “I know you aren’t a believer, and that’s okay. I don’t want to pressure you, but I know I can help you find what you are searching for.”

“Mr. Ackles…:” she started.

“Please, call me Jensen, or better yet, you can call me Jay,” he smiled, putting her at ease.

“Fine. Jay, I came here to appease an old woman who believed you could help me. I don’t even know what I am looking for!” She had reached the point of exasperation years ago, but it felt more like desperation the longer she searched.

“Marta,” he murmured.

“You knew her?” she gasped.

“Yes, I was able to help her some years ago and we kept in touch. She called me just a few weeks ago and told me about you. I am sorry if I haven’t been forthcoming, but I was hoping you would be here tonight. She thought the world of you, you know. I’m sorry for your loss. I am sad to see she passed away,” Jensen cleared his throat.

Y/N had no words. There was so much that Marta and her grandfather had kept from her and she wasn’t sure where to turn anymore. The search had gone on far too long and she was ready to move on.

“Mr. Ack-Jay, I’m not sure I should be here. The last several years of my life have been a waste, an expedition of the unknown, a fruitless hunt. I don’t have the energy anymore,” she cried, then chastised herself for getting emotional.

“Y/N, your life has been filled with loss since the day you entered it. Your mother, your grandmother, then grandfather, and finally Marta. Loss is never easy and, from what Marta entrusted me with, it has hit you harder than most, having no one else that you can trust.

“You can trust me, Y/N. Marta did and I hope you will as well,” Jensen paused, taking her hand in his gently. “Close your eyes, Y/N.” Jensen’s voice was soothing, calming any left over nerves she had. She did as he instructed and closed her eyes.

The room was quiet, their breaths the only sounds that could be heard around her. Jensen didn’t move and she sat still as he held her hand in his. “I want you to clear your mind for me, Y/N. Let go of everything you are holding on to, just for a few minutes, okay?”

“Hmhmmm,” she hummed her agreement and tried to clear her mind. Taking deep breaths, she saw her grandfather, grandmother and Marta standing around her in a circle, their smiles clear as she let them fade away. She didn’t know how much time had passed before Jensen spoke again.

“Seven…doors…an envelope…grandpa…one…,” Jensen’s voice was barely audible and he pulled his hand away from her. “I don’t feel any objects, Y/N. I don’t think your grandfather left something for you to find.”

“What do you mean? There has to be something he left for me? Why would he tell me to go find these things if there is nothing for me to find?” Y/N exclaimed, frustrated once more.

“I can see you have been looking. Your mind is filled with riddles and puzzles, the things I saw before. But I see no object that he left behind for you. What I see are colors, emotions. Cliff is regretful, melancholy, but I can feel Marta as well; her emotions are different. They’re hopeful, joyful, promising,” Jensen paused and opened his eyes, looking at Y/N.

“Mr. Ackles, thank you for your time, but I feel this has been a waste of mine,” Y/N stood and gathered her things hastily. “Have a nice evening.”

“Y/N, wait! Please don’t go,” Jensen reached for her once more, but she sidestepped him.

“I can’t stay here,” she muttered and, with that, she walked out of the room and his life.

Y/N sped back to the hotel, throwing her things in her bag and wanting nothing more than to get on the road and as far away from the Ackles’ as she could. She couldn’t believe she spent so much time, so much energy, for it to turn out to be nothing. No one could help her; she could only help herself.

She missed her animals and her home. Most of all she missed her grandpa and Marta. Her thoughts drifted as she made the long drive home back to Ada, Oklahoma. What did Jensen mean when he said he didn’t think Grandpa left something for her? Everything is either person, place or thing. If it wasn’t a thing, what the hell was it that she was supposed to find? A place? A person?

Could it be her father? She had been told a long time ago that he was also dead. Apparently he was killed in a car accident before Y/N was even born. By the time she was old enough to comprehend what loss meant, she didn’t even care anymore. Surely her grandfather or Marta would have told her if he was still alive. There wasn’t even a name listed for him on her birth certificate.

By the time she pulled into her driveway, she was beyond tired. It was after two in the morning and she trudged up the stairs, falling into bed still fully clothed. She was asleep within moments, but like hundreds of nights before, it was fitful and filled with dreams once more.

But, these dreams were different than before. There were no puzzles, no riddles, no maps. What she did see was what seemed like millions of bright lights, of all different shapes and colors. There were small lights, twinkling in the distance. Some were giant balls, bursting with brightness right before her eyes, threatening to blind her. Blue, green, gold, pink, purple, orange swirling with all the colors of the rainbow and more. Beyond the lights, she could make out faint shapes, ovals, crescents, perfect circles. What she would realize later when she woke, was they weren’t shapes at all, but faces.

It would be the faces she would recall for days to come. They would be there while she went about her daily chores, cleaning pens and collecting eggs. They looked back at her in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. She could see them reflected in the screen of her laptop. What bothered her the most is that they were murky, like the bottom of a lake; you could see it, but every time you tried to look closer, taking a small step stirred up the sediment. That and the fact that she couldn’t recognize any of the faces she was seeing; they were all foreign to her.

Shortly before dinner and a few days after the wasted trip to St. Louis, there was a knock at her door. This was unusual in itself. She never had visitors, not since she sold off the farm land, and she was not expecting any deliveries that she knew of. She reached for the shotgun she kept loaded in the front closet when a second knock sounded.

“Who is it?” she demanded, fire in her voice and the shotgun heavy in her hands.

“Y/N? It’s Jensen. Jensen Ackles. Can I please come in?” his deep timbre pulsated through the solid wooden door.

“Why are you here, Jensen?” she asked, some of the fight leaving her voice.

“Please just let me come in and I can explain all of it. Please,” he pleaded with her.

After releasing the deadbolt, she swung the door open and there he was, his eyes wide at the sight of a weapon in her hands. He held his hands up to show her he meant no harm.  “Jensen, why are you here?” She stowed the shotgun back in the closet and turned to face him. That was when she noticed there was something in his hand. A letter. Her letter. “What are you doing with my letter? Where did you get this?”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on!” He held it out to her and she snatched it from him. “You left it. It must have fallen out of your bag when you rushed out of there. I’m sorry it took me so long to return it to you, but I figured you probably needed some time.”

“I didn’t even know I had lost it,” she muttered, holding it tightly to her chest. It was the last thing she had from her grandfather.

“I know you feel your trip was a waste, but there is something different about you today, than when we met just a few days back,” Jensen pondered this as he entered her home. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Wait-” she held her hand up to stop him from getting any closer to her. “How did you even find me?”

“I’m a psychic, remember?” he laughed, but back tracked quickly seeing the look on her face. “No, really. I started with the info Marta had given me, then just followed the signs until I found you. Besides, I promised you that we’d get to the bottom of it.”

“So, essentially, you tracked me?” she asked.

“Essentially,” he echoed. “The letter led me to you. You’re avoiding the question, Y/N. Do you want to talk about what is different?”

“Yes, I am avoiding it, but leave it to you to bring it up again, knowing that I am avoiding it,” she rolled her eyes and walked through the house to the kitchen, leaving Jensen staring after her. “Do you want some tea?”

Jensen accepted the invitation and moved to follow her, though he stopped every few feet, surveying the room. He could sense so much, almost to the point where he felt overwhelmed, drained, like he did at the end of an evening gathering. He made his way to the table where he collapsed into the nearest chair.

“Oh my! Jay, are you okay?” she rushed to his side.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. It’s just…this house. I am feeling everything,” he admitted, rubbing a hand over his stubbled face.

“Wha-what does it feel like?” she questioned, curious about his gift.

“It’s like feeling everything all at once, overwhelming, really. The flashes I see, the emotion that goes with it. It’s a lot to absorb,” he breathed out.

“What are you feeling right now? What did you see?” her eyes were wide with wonder.

“I saw the day your grandparents brought you home after you were born,” he closed his eyes. “They were heartbroken over the loss of your mother, but elated over your birth. Concerned with what the years would bring and overjoyed at what you might accomplish.”

“Well, I feel mostly that I disappointed them,” Y/N scoffed. “I never stray far from home, I don’t have any friends. I have no family left. I sold off grandpa’s land to keep the house.”

“None of that means you’re a disappointment. I don’t feel anything of the sort, in fact. Pride, joy, love, happiness, mixed with a tinge of sadness is what I am feeling,” Jensen offered with a reassuring smile

“That doesn’t answer my ongoing situation though, Jay,” she rose, returning to her task. She busied herself with measuring the tea, so caught up in her own thoughts that the spoon slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor when the kettle whistled to life.

“Maybe you’re overthinking it, Y/N,” Jensen proposed.

Y/N eyed him carefully as she returned to the table, setting a mug in front of him, then taking her own, holding it with both hands. “How do you mean, Jay?

“Well, I am no expert when it comes to your grandfather, but sometimes people say one thing when they mean another. I met you four days ago. Since then, I have kept your letter in my possession. And no, I didn’t read it. But I don’t need to. I could feel his intentions,” Jensen explained.

“Can you break this down for me? You’re being just as cryptic as grandpa,” Y/N griped.

“Yeah, sorry. It comes with the job I guess. I had a few interactions with your grandfather these last few days. It was the letter that led me to him. The things he was referring to, aren’t things at all. Not tangible at least. He feels he kept them from you. Kept you from finding them your whole life and now he wants you to go looking for them. Friendship, companionship, love; human connections.  At least that is my read.” Jensen elaborated. “I just want you to have the information, Y/N. What you choose to do with it? Well, that’s up to you.”

Y/N pondered this for for a few moments while they sipped at their tea in silence. Normally, she experienced awkwardness with folks since she had only been around a few people her entire life. She lacked what some might call ‘social skills.’ But it was different with Jensen. She felt different. For the first time in her life, at least her adult life, she felt calm, at peace.

She surmised that what Jensen was saying made sense in some ways. Grandpa’s letter had said she should have been at school making friends. She took another sip of her tea and glanced at Jensen across from her.

“Could it really be that simple?” she muttered. It wasn’t until Jensen looked up, meeting her gaze that she realized she had said the words out loud.

“Sometimes it is,” Jensen shrugged. “I should let you get back to it.”

“Wou-would you like to come back sometime?” she sputtered, suddenly shy.

“I would like that, Y/N. I think your grandpa would, too,” he smiled and turned, heading for the front door.

“Do you like pie?” she called after him.

“I could eat a slice or ten,” he chuckled.

“Well, then I guess I’ll make two,” she added.

“Here’s my personal cell phone number, Y/N. Please, call me if you need anything, okay? Especially to let me know when you’re going to make those pies,” he joked, handing her another card.

“I will,” she took the card and walked him to the door. “Drive safe. And Jay? Thanks for coming, I feel better and I think that is because of you.”

“I am relieved to hear that, Y/N. I’m glad I could help,” he ambled down the front steps to his car.

Y/N watched as he drove down the dirt road, dust billowing behind him. She smiled. She realized she had smiled more that day than she probably had in the last ten years. Maybe, just maybe, Grandpa, Marta and Jensen had been right.

That night, she settled into bed, pulling the quilt up and curling onto her side. She closed her eyes and for the first time in what felt like forever, she slept peacefully.

~*~

Y/N kept herself busy for the next few days. She tended to her animals twice a day like always. She cleaned and started decluttering around the house. She hadn’t touched her grandfather’s belongings since he died and she decided it was finally a good time to tackle his room.

She looked around his room, now boxed up, save a few mementos, and smiled. She caught herself doing that more and more.

Normally, she had the general store in town deliver her groceries and supplies for a few extra dollars, but when she walked through the door, the shopkeeper was surprised to see her.

“Mornin’ Y/N. How’re you doing? Was about to send Tommy over to your place when I didn’t get your order this week,” Ed eyed her carefully.

“Good morning to you, Ed. I’m well, just here for my weekly shopping. Trying to get out a little more, I guess,” she smiled at him as she grabbed a basket and made her way through the aisles. Thirty minutes and four bags later, she had everything she needed for the week, plus the ingredients to make a couple of pies and a good meal.

“Thank you, Ed. Have a nice day,” she called out as he headed back into the store after loading her bags into the back of her truck. He turned and just shook his head, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t be a stranger now, Y/N. It was good to see you,” he responded. He stood there watching as she drove away.

Back home, she stored her supplies and groceries, all the while humming a tune. She knew how it had gotten stuck in her head, and she picked up the phone, dialing quickly before she changed her mind. She wouldn’t have had the chance anyway, the person on the other end picking up on the first ring.

“Y/N?” his voice was strong and smooth.

“Hey Jay, I’m not going to ask how you knew it was me,” she commented.

“Well, not many people have this number so…a good guess?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, sure, let’s go with that,” she agreed sarcastically. “So I picked up some apples today. I was thinking about making a pie later…”

“An apple pie? One of my favorites,” he confided. “Along with cherry, pecan, banana cream, pumpkin…”

“Okay, okay. You like pie, I got the hint,” she giggled. “So if I made this apple pie, would you come by and eat some of it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want it to go to waste,” Jensen joked. “I have a couple of things to take care of here, but I can be there in four hours. Does that work for you?”

She checked the time and realized it would be just after seven when he arrived. She nodded, then laughed at herself. “Sorry for laughing, I nodded and realized you can’t see me! So, yes, that works. Say, why don’t you pack a bag, too? I have plenty of room and I don’t want you driving back and risk falling into a pie induced coma!”

“Are you sure?’ he asked cautiously, but pleased that she seemed so light hearted, a change from their last conversation.

“Yeah, I’m sure Jay. I’m trying to live a little,” she assured him. “See you later.”

“See you soon, Y/N,” he hung up the phone and went to pack a bag.

Y/N didn’t know what had come over her, but she smiled as she peeled and sliced apples for the pie. Once the pie was assembled, she set it to bake then headed upstairs. She quickly changed the sheets in the spare bedroom and opened the window for some fresh air. Satisfied, she jumped in the shower and sang quietly to herself as she cleaned up.

Dressing in her most comfortable jeans and a tee shirt, she finished up dinner. She felt good for the first time in a long time. She had slept well the last few nights and she firmly believed it was a contributing factor. Y/N knew it wouldn’t fix everything overnight, but she felt she was putting in a solid effort on her new outlook. Jensen played a big part in that, she thought as she placed the macaroni and cheese in the oven.

She knew the path had been originally laid by her grandfather and Marta, but without Jensen, an outsider, she wasn’t sure how far she could walk that path on her own. But, with only a few steps in, she felt confident she was headed the right direction.

She took note of time, knowing dinner had about thirty minutes when there was a knock at the door. She couldn’t help herself as she rushed to the front of the house, a wide grin overtaking her features. She turned the knob, seeing a very casual Jensen leaning against her door frame.

“What took you so long? I can smell that pie all the way out here! It’s how I got here; I just followed my stomach!” he laughed reaching his hand out to take hers.

She surprised both of them by pulling him into her arms, pressing her small frame against his in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you could make it, Jay! And you’re early!”

Jensen couldn’t hide the look of astonishment on his face as he returned the hug. A feeling of happiness washed over him, albeit shadowed by a remote feeling of anxiousness. He slowly released her, pulling back and observing the woman before him. Gone were the dark circles, her eyes bright and shining in the autumn sunlight filtering through the still open door. She looked healthy, happy and eager.

“You look good, Y/N,” Jensen commented, his eyes travelling her frame carefully. “Your colors have improved.”

“How do you mean?” she asked inquisitively.

“Well, everyone has an aura; I can see them, read people,” he explained. “You have more pink, a hint of orange now, mixed with a little soft blue. I feel a more loving, social nature with a peacefulness that I had not seen in yours before. You’re like the sky at sunset right now.”

“I am guessing that is a good thing?” she said, closing the door behind him.

“It’s a very good thing,” he confirmed. “Now where is this pie?”

“Right this way, Jay. Dinner is almost ready,” Y/N led him through the house, back to the kitchen. “I hope you’re not lactose intolerant; I made macaroni and cheese.”

“Well, then it is a good thing I can handle cheese,” Jensen reaffirmed. “Now, what can I help with?”

“Nothing. It isn’t often I have guests…honestly, I’ve never had a guest, so have a seat and let me finish up here,” she confided. “Beer?”

“That sounds great, Y/N. Thank you.”

They chatted for a few minutes, Y/N telling Jensen about her animals and her day, even telling him she went to town. 

“Trying to make friends, I see,” he teased.

“Well, I thought a lot about what you said, about what grandpa wanted for me, so I’m trying for him, and for me,” she said thoughtfully. “It wasn’t as bad I used to make it.”

“That’s awesome, kid,” Jensen commended, taking a sip off his beer.

“Kid? You know you’re only a year older than me, right, old man?” she poked, noting the look of fake shock on Jensen’s face. “I did my research on you, too.”

Just then the timer went off.

“Saved by the bell,” Jensen remarked.

Dinner was comfortable and filled with conversation. Jensen did his best to block his gifts in most situations and, with Y/N, it was no different. He didn’t want her to feel like he was constantly reading her and trying to get into her head. His knowledge of her was quite limited based on what Marta had confided in him and what they had already discussed, so he kept the conversation centered on her. He wanted to know everything about her.

“Okay, okay, enough about me, Jay,” she stopped him as she served up that pie he was so eager to dig into. “Tell me something about you; something I can’t read on the internet.”

“Well, there isn’t much to tell, honestly. A lot about me is already out there. I have a brother and sister, my parents are my managers, I was an athlete in school,” Jensen shrugged, taking a plate from her. “This looks heavenly, Y/N.” He held the plate, taking a whiff and sighing with joy.

“Thank you. The recipe is actually Marta’s; mostly everything I cook is. She taught me everything I know,” she said sadly. “I miss her.”

“I know you do,” Jensen reached his hand across the table, taking hers in his larger one.

“Are you reading me?” she asked, offended.

“No, Y/N. I am not reading you, I promise. I told myself I wouldn’t do that, not since the last visit,” he vowed. “I want you to be able to trust, and I think you are, but I know you can’t if I use my gift around you. With the exception of seeing your aura when I arrived, I have been blocking it. I can hear it in your voice when you talk about her, I can see it in your eyes. I swear it.”

“I’m sorry I got so defensive, this whole letting people in thing is new to me. Please be patient with me, I’m trying,” she smiled.

“Hey, hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jensen squeezed her hand. “I know this is new to you. To be honest, this is a little new for me, too. Most people I meet just want something from me, but not you. You’re doing great, Y/N. I’ll help you navigate your path if you help me with mine.”

“I think that sounds like a fair trade, Jay. Thank you,” she squeezed back. “Now eat your pie!”

Jensen knew he had never tasted pie this good before and he made a fool of himself eating it in front of Y/N with the noises and faces he was probably making. “I’m sorry. This is just so superbly delicious and I just can’t stop myself.”

“I’m flattered, really. I’m glad I did it justice. This was her first prize recipe at the Oklahoma State Fair three years running,” Y/N whispered, pretending it was a secret. “But don’t over do it; I have pecan, too.”

“Are you serious?” his eyes now as big as his stomach. “Please, please can I have a slice?”

“You’re a like a puppy with a treat, Jay!” she laughed and plated a slice of the pecan for him as well. “Good thing I readied a room, you’ll be asleep in no time from all these carbs.”

“Good think I packed sweatpants to sleep in, stretchy waist!” he mumbled around the flaky crust and buttery filling of the pecan pie.

Y/N excused herself to the restroom only to find Jensen at the sink, his sleeves rolled up and washing dishes. “Jensen Ackles! What do you think you are doing?”

“Well, I figured it was a fair price for room, board and pleasant company for the evening,” he shrugged. “It’s the least I could do.”

“Fine, but no doing the breakfast dishes,” she relented, sitting down and picking up her beer as she watched Jensen. He had a quiet confidence about him and she was enjoying his company.

“Tell me Jensen, was it your idea to take your gift to the people?” she asked.

Jensen mulled that question over for a bit before answering. “No, not really. My grandmother used to bring people home at first, ones that she thought I could help. Then my folks encouraged me to do private readings. People started paying and it just snowballed from there. This is not something I would have chosen for myself, but I help people.”

“Are you happy?”

“All the travelling, the crowds; it makes me anxious, to be honest, but I like helping people. I have more money now than I could ever spend and I’m only twenty-five. What would I do if I didn’t do this?” his words were spoken from the heart.

“You can still help people, Jay. But, do what makes you happy. That is all I am saying,” she replied.

“Now who’s helping?” he teased, wiping his hands on a towel.

“We’re in this together now, right? Friends helping friends? You’re my first friend, Jay,” she confessed.

“I’m glad,” he smiled, taking two more beers from the fridge, passing one off to her. He held up his beer towards her. “To friendship.”

“To friendship,” she agreed and clinked her bottle against his.

After those last two beers, they made their way up the stairs, Y/N showing him to the room she had prepared. “Bathroom is just down the hall. I laid out some towels if you want to shower now or in the morning. Goodnight, Jensen.”

“Thank you for a nice evening,” Jensen said graciously. “Sleep tight, Y/N.”

With their nighttime ados exchanged, she made her way to her own room at the end of the hall, Jensen watching her until she closed the door. She changed into her night clothes and climbed into bed. She laid there for sometime, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the night. She fell asleep with a smile on her face and Jensen’s face in her dreams.

~*~

The smell of coffee and bacon woke her the next morning. Her eyes opened slowly and she stretched out her tired limbs before climbing from her bed. After a quick change of clothes and a visit to the bathroom to take care of business and brush her teeth, she rushed downstairs.

Jensen was still in his sleep clothes, gray sweatpants, a tight black tee shirt and bare feet, when she entered the kitchen. He was standing at her stove, a steaming mug in one hand and flipping bacon with the other.

“Well, Mr. Ackles, this is something I could get used to,” she smiled, pouring herself some coffee.

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, this isn’t something I get to do often and I thought it would be nice to give you the morning off,” he slid some bacon from the pan onto the nearby plate. “Besides, I was raised in my granny’s kitchen. I know how to cook, I just don’t get to as much as I would like.”

She went to the back door and slipped on a pair of shoes. “Let me run out and grab some eggs to go with that bacon.”

“You don’t need to run to the store, we can make do with what you already have,” Jensen replied, adding another slice to the pan.

“Oh, no, not the store silly. My back yard. I raise chickens; have since I was a kid,” she laughed and slipped out the door, not missing the look on his face.

She returned just a few minutes later, a basket full of fresh eggs of all colors. Jensen looked in the basket, that same look of awe on his scruffy face.

“These are not from chickens. Chickens lay white eggs, maybe brown, but not blue and green!” Jensen protested.

“Jensen, surely a man with your education knows better than this!” she laughed. “See these blue eggs are laid by Araucanas chickens. These eggs here are from what are affectionately known as Easter Eggers; their eggs can range in color from blue, green, rose or brown to sage, olive or cream. But the key is they are larger eggs than the others from the Araucanas. The deep brown colored eggs? Those are from my French feathered friends, the Marans chickens,” she explained as she picked a few to cook up.

“I was raised just outside of Dallas in the suburbs. I know about horses and bulls and people, maybe even dogs, but I never claimed to know anything about chickens,” Jensen defended himself. “Can I meet them?”

“Yes, only if you eat all your breakfast, Mister,” she laughed, cracking eggs into a mixing bowl.

Jensen was fascinated by her animals and asked all about them over breakfast. She told him all about the chicken and the goats. She had never seen someone eat so fast in her life. He was finished and already washed his dishes before she had cleared half her plate.

“Jay, they will still be there when we’re ready. Why don’t you go shower and change and I promise I’ll be ready when you are,” she waved him off and finished her own breakfast. By the time she had washed her dishes and gotten rid of the bacon grease, Jensen was back in the kitchen, dressed in jeans, a black undershirt and a green and blue flannel, looking every part a farm hand.

“I’m ready!” Jensen announced, practically bouncing as she slipped her shoes back on.

“Now who’s the kid?” she teased as they headed out the back door. Jensen could barely contain himself as she let them in the fence and over to the chicken coop.

“How much land do you have here?” he asked as he surveyed the area.

“Had about 500 acres before grandpa died. In the last several years, I have sold off all but ten. I sold enough to keep me here and kept only what I needed for these guys. I had the entire ten fenced in so they can go anywhere they want and they return to the coop each night and for feeding time,” they were now surrounded by over a dozen chickens, of all shapes, sizes and colors.

“These don’t even have tails!” Jensen pointed, giggling.

“Those are the Araucanas; no rumps,” she explained.

“Where are the goats you were telling me about?” Jensen looked around, trying to spot the small, horned and hoofed creatures.

“Probably out grazing, that is what they do,” she surmised. “Oscar, Billy, Gruff, Peanut!”

“Those are their names?” he laughed.

“Yes. Why is that so funny to you?” she side eyed him.

“Because it’s awesome and incredible and I am having so much fun,” Jensen explained himself. “I grew up around horses named Tex and Spitfire, bulls named Stingray and Goliath.”

As if on cue, two of the goats made their way back into the pen, thinking it was feeding time. “This is Oscar and that little one is Peanut.” She affectionately scratched the top of Oscar’s head and he nudged her leg.

“He likes to be scratched just like my Oscar,” Jensen observed. “I guess most pets are alike. Like humans; we mostly crave the attention, the affection, interaction.”

“That is a very generalized theory, Jay,” she told him. “But you’re not wrong. I guess I am proof of that.”

Jensen walked back over to her, Peanut hot on his trail. “Hey, look at me. Just because of the situation of how we met, doesn’t mean you crave attention or affection; it is after all, a natural instinct. What draws us in, it doesn’t mean we’re needy because of it. So don’t you think for one second that I think that, or anyone else.”

“I’m still trying,” she looked down at her feet.

“And I am still helping,” he promised.

“I have something else you can help with,” she tugged his hand and led him back to a shed in the corner. “It’s feeding time.” She pointed out the buckets and Jensen didn’t hesitate to grab one in each hand. She grabbed two more and they made their way back to the pen.

“Those are for the goats, just pour it into the trough there,” she instructed while passing through the gate to feed the chickens. “Jay! Can you grab one more of the red buckets?”

“Yeah, no problem! Just a sec-” she didn’t see what happened, but she heard a crash, followed by a thud and the goats bleating up a storm. She raced to the gate to find Jensen flat on his back, surrounded by goats and covered in feed. She couldn’t help herself and started laughing.

“This is not funny!” Jensen yelled, struggling to get up and escape the animals.

She managed to get through and close the gate, coming to Jensen’s aide. “You’re wrong, it is funny, City Boy. Come on, I got ya.” She held out her hand to help him up, but missed the look of mischief on his handsome face.

Jensen reached for the hand she offered, but instead of trying to pull himself up, he yanked and pulled her down into the dirt with him. She squealed as she hit the ground, but soon they were both laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.

The goats were nipping at the tips of Jensen’s short hair and he tried to fend them off, but it just fueled their fire. Y/N was no help as she couldn’t stop laughing, but Jensen now looked less amused. He rolled himself over, coming face to face with her.

“Jay, what’s wrong?” she managed to get out. “Are you okay? I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine. I’m great. And you’re beautiful, you know that?” the look quickly changed to one she didn’t recognize, but felt. Her cheeks were heating up under his gaze.

“Did you hit your head?” she questioned, sure that was it.

“No, I have never felt better, more free in my life,” Jensen looked directly into her eyes. “Tell me you feel it, too?”

“I don’t know what I am feeling, Jay. It’s too much and not enough and I am conflicted,” she admitted, looking away.

Jensen cupped her cheek in his hand, turning her back to face him. “We’re helping each other right?”

She nodded in agreement.

“Then let’s start figuring this out, together,” he suggested and she nodded once more. “Good, cause I really wanna kiss you.”

“I really want you to,” she leaned a bit closer, counting on Jensen to take the lead.

Jensen did just that and closed the gap, lightly pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was unhurried, soft and warm and tingly. It didn’t last as long as the kisses she had seen in the movies, but her knowledge was limited. Jensen pulled back, a dopey smile on his face, matching the one on hers.

“What are you thinking, Y/N?’ Jensen asked.

“That I finally found what I’ve been looking for,” she beamed and leaned back in for more.


End file.
